


That Was Mine

by Cheshagirl



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: F/M, OC/Canon, also their new ship name is, oh baby yes more ginnie/ dutch, theres a slight gun fight, this is how dutch and ginnie first meet, vanderbee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 20:49:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16899612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheshagirl/pseuds/Cheshagirl
Summary: Dutch lost his score to some lady bandit leader and spends the next few days brooding over it until he finds her at a saloon. Drinking, tackling, and flirting ensues.





	That Was Mine

**Author's Note:**

> i can't write action sequences for shit but i love these two
> 
> Patreon - cheshagirl | Ko-Fi - cheshagirl

Ginnie hated Valentine, she really did. It stunk of manure and the streets were thick mud that sucked at her boots and splattered against her pants. It was small and the people here were far too nosy for her taste. The only thing this town was good for was banks and a drink. Which she deserved right about now. The saloon is crowded, it should be considering it’s noon, so she weaves through the tipsy men toward the bar. Her knock on the bar calls the bartender over, and she orders herself a whiskey. The past couple of days had been eventful, but fruitful, and her body was left tired and sore from the heist she’d done. A shot of whiskey is placed in front of her and she throws it back, thankful for the burn it sends through her body.

The heist was easy, a caravan of wagons holding bonds was making its way toward Valentine and it was going to be an easy enough score. They’d gotten to the caravan, killed the guards and had started looting when they showed up. 

“Ginnie, we got company!” She looked up from the case she was looking through and let out a long sigh. Approaching them was a group of what appeared to be several bandits. They halted their horses a few yards away. Ginnie stood slowly, weapons being drawn from both parties. Her gaze met the leaders on the white horse. He wore a white shirt and a silky vest, rings adorning his right hand, and red bandana obscuring his face. They gazed at each other for a beat, the tension palpable, waiting for each other to make the first move. 

She lunged, diving behind the wagon beside her and opening fire on the men. Dutch swore as bullets flew by and he shouted for his men to surround them. He’d come looking for an easy score and instead was in the middle of a gunfight against a woman bandit. He aimed toward a tall man behind one of the wagons, firing toward him. He was so preoccupied with the bullets flying and trying to scare off the other gang he didn’t notice the leader approaching from his right until she had jumped up the Count’s side and grabbed him by his shirt, yanking him down to the ground with her. They crashed to the ground, his shoulder jamming into the ground and pistols tumbling from their grasps. He shouted and lunged, swinging for her. She scrambled back, dodging his fist and kicking out, hitting his shoulder and shoving him backward. Dutch landed on his back before the blonde woman is on top of him, one hand curled into his shirt the other pulled back to punch him. She’s about to strike when Arthur warns, “Officers comin’ in!”

His attention is turned back to the woman on top and they meet each other's gaze. Her hat and black bandana obscure most of her face, but he won’t forget her eyes anytime soon. They’re a deep, striking blue with icy flecks toward her pupils. She snarled and threw him down, leaping from him.

“Raiders!” She shouts, scrambling to her feet before whistling for her horse. “Move!”

Dutch scrambled to his feet, grabbing his pistol and aiming for her. He sees her belt buckle, big and silver with a longhorn etched into it. He nearly pulled the trigger as she takes off in a gallop, but a shout from Hosea stopped him. With a swear, he lept back on the Count and took off, the others following close behind.

Now here he was, back in Valentine days later heading to the saloon. He had spent the past few days brooding over the lost score and trying to figure out how he would steal it from the woman. Eventually, Hosea had told him to, “Get off his ass and get a drink.”

Dutch sighs, pushing open the doors to the saloon and scanning the room. His eyes land on a woman leaning on the bar. His eyes drift down her body to her ass, and he smirks. He straightens his vest, striding toward the bar and stepping up beside her. She gives him a side eye look before returning to her whiskey. The bartender approaches and Dutch orders a whiskey, noticing the way the woman beside him sneers. He nods to the bartender when his drink is placed before him, and he turns to the lady beside him.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting you before.” He greets, leaning on his left elbow as he swirls the amber drink. 

“And I don’t believe you ever will, again.” She retorts, throwing back her shot. Dutch chuckles lowly, he always did enjoy a strong woman. 

“Now don’t tell me you plan on leavin’ so soon?” He grins. “This town could use a pretty face such as yours.”

The blonde straightens out and turns toward him, her eyes squinting with annoyance. The stunning blue pools seem oddly familiar. His eyes travel slowly to her waist and he nearly chokes at the belt buckle. It’s a large silver buckle with a _longhorn_ etched in. With a sharp inhale he drinks his shot. Of course, of _course_ , it was the same goddamn woman. He almost leaves, when a plan sparks in his head. He turns back to her, as she’s paying her tab, and sets down his glass. 

“I suppose a pretty lady such as yourself wouldn’t divulge her name to a lonely man such as I.” 

“If you think that’s a good way to attract a woman, I suggest you go back to the drawing board.” She scoffs at him, and walks away, making several men jump out of her way as she strides out of the saloon. Dutch sighs, knowing his next actions would probably be some of his stupidest. He waits by the bar for a few moments longer before quickly leaving the saloon and scanning the streets of Valentine. Down the road, he sees her, the bandit, riding away on her horse, the same horse she used to escape with his score. Hastily he mounts the Count and takes off after her. He follows her for a while, heading toward the lake into the woods. While he keeps her in his sight, Dutch tries to keep his distance and is doing it well until they enter the woods, and she is suddenly gone. 

“God damn it.” He swears, stopping the Count, looking around desperately for her trail. There’s a roar of fury from his left and he whips around in time to see her charging toward him. She leaps from her horse and tackles him from his own mount. For the second time since he’s known her, Dutch is thrown to the ground by the raider’s leader. She straddles his waist, pressing a sawed off shotgun pressed to he chest. She looks furious, lip curled back into a snarl and eyebrows pinched together. Dutch, as much as he wants to be mad for being outsmarted by her, can’t help smirk. 

“I ain't ever had a lady on top before, can't say I mind though.” He purrs. The blonde growls and digs her barrel into his chest, hissing, “Who the hell are you ‘n what do you want?”

He debates telling her her truth, that he was Dutch van der Linde and he was going to try and steal the score back from her or lying. Finally, he gives in and explains, “I believe we were both after the same score, and that you took what's mine.”

The wheels turn in her head, trying to piece together the information before her eyes widen with realization. He’s expecting her to roll her eyes, or shoot him, instead, she grins and starts laughing. 

“I earned that fair ‘n square if you want it back you'll have to _steal_ it from me.”

“Oh, I _intend_ to.” Dutch grins. She pulls her gun away, clicking the safety on before standing and offering him her hand. Dutch takes it, surprised as she easily hefts him to his feet. The grip she has on his hand doesn’t stop as she says, “What should I call my future thief?”

“Dutch,” He introduces himself, squeezing her hand. “Dutch van der Linde. And what name can I couple with my future quarry?” 

A smirk pulls on her lips as she responds, “Call me Ginnie Bee Banzette. I look forward to seeing you again.”

Ginnie holsters her gun, mounts her horse and turns to look down at Dutch. Her smile warms his core and twists his tongue as he tries to bid her goodbye as she rides off. He watches her until her form disappears in the foliage, heart hammering and he _knows_ he’s in for it. 

“Ginnie Bee Banzette.” He murmurs to himself, letting it roll off his tongue. A shudder goes down his spine and he starts grinning. “Oh we are gonna have some _fun_.”


End file.
